


When Everything Is Wrong, We Move Along

by Whreflections



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Apocalypse, Episode Tag, Episode: s05e10 Abandon All Hope..., Established Relationship, M/M, One Shot, Shower Sex, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-21
Updated: 2012-09-21
Packaged: 2017-11-14 17:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/517668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whreflections/pseuds/Whreflections
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of so much loss, Castiel is weary beyond anything he could've ever imagined.  The world seems like it's crumbling down around them a little earlier than it should, and the will to dig his fingers in and hold on seems to finally be slipping away.  At this point, the only thing that's solid is Dean.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When Everything Is Wrong, We Move Along

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this prompt on the deancaskinkmeme- Castiel is dirty after a day's hard hunt, and Dean ofers to clean him in the shower. Plenty of touching is a must, with the focus on Dean stroking Castiel's wings, which arouses the angel. Shower!sex ensues, but I'd like to see at least one of them getting a blow job (either of them, I don't mind!). Plus, I'd like a bottom!Castiel, please!

In the end, it wasn’t really anything like a funeral. It should’ve been, and it was the best they could do, but there was only so much burning a picture could resolve, and it wasn’t much at all. The hole in his chest was still there, glaring. He could still feel the heat from the explosion, still see everything he felt echoed in Sam’s eyes.   
  
Just like that, their family had shrunk just a little more. There wasn’t much left to whittle away, really. Just him and Sammy and Bobby and Cas, and when they were gone, that’d be it. At this rate, they wouldn’t have much longer to wait. All Dean wanted at this point was not to lose Sam to Lucifer and not to be the last one standing. That was as much as he felt like he could ask.   
  
He downed a shot quick and sat the glass back down on the counter, reaching up with one hand to rub at the grime on the back of his neck. His hand came away sticky, and he knew something back there was bleeding though he couldn’t remember when he’d been cut.   
  
“She said if I was…one of you, I needed to be able to keep up.” Castiel had come without a sound, hovering uncertainly next to the table in the semi-dark. His fingers ghosted over the shot glasses still lined up, obviously running over the scene from the night before in his mind.   
  
Dean cleared his throat, nodding. “Yeah. Sounds about like Ellen.”  _God_ , saying her name hurt. Everything hurt, but in such a tired way. He’d had his heart run over too many times at this point to really be phased by it.   
  
Castiel closed his hand around one of the glasses, squeezed until it shattered, blood and glass dripping onto the table.   
  
“Hey!” Dean was at his side quick, hand wrapping around his wrist and jerking it up to get a look at Cas’ hand. “Cut that out, ok? Jesus…”   
  
“Dean I’m…” He licked his lips, brow furrowing as he looked away. “If I hadn’t allowed myself to be trapped by Lucifer, I-“  
  
“Stop  _right_  fuckin’ there.” He ground the words out hard, something close to a tremor in his voice. There was no way he was gonna let Cas blame himself for this, not when so much else was already shot to hell.   
  
“It’s true. If I had-“  
  
“I said stop, dammit!” Dean dropped his wrist to grab his coat, shaking him just a little and shoving him back until he stumbled into the table. Dean caught him, steadying, his hands tightening in his shirt. “Now you  _listen_  to me, alright? Cas, this is not your fault, ok? It’s not your fault, and it’s not my fault or Sam’s fault or anyone else’s but Meg and those goddamn hellhounds, you understand? This is just war, Cas, and I’m sure you know that even better than I do.”   
  
“I’m finding…knowing it and experiencing it are two different things. Before, we were forbidden to mourn but now…” He swallowed, his eyes dropping to the floor and Dean understood, stepped in just a little closer and loosened his grip on Cas’ shirt, patting his chest with one hand.   
  
“Yeah. I know. I know.”   
  
Suddenly, Cas’ arms were around him, vise tight, his head buried against Dean’s neck. Dean held on just as tightly, slid his arms around behind his back to hold him in place. Cas’ breath was harsh and uneven against his neck, and he swallowed back everything he didn’t want to focus on. There was grief, yeah, but there was fear too, and he knew that was what had Cas squeezing the life out of him right now. For him, all of this was new. Dean had a whole lifetime to get used to the fact that in their line of work, sometimes the people you loved went out for a day on the job and didn’t come back. Not that had ever made him accept it, but he’d at least been _ready_  for how the worst would feel, and that made some kind of difference.   
  
“I  _won’t_  lose you. Not like that.” His words were muffled, harsh and low against Dean’s skin and so frightened underneath it all that he wanted to promise Cas he’d never have to. What he  _could_  do was much less reassuring, but he tried anyway. He rubbed his back, gentle, pulled back slightly until Cas let him go enough that he could reach up and take his face in his hands, brushing a light kiss against his lips.   
  
“C’mon. Come shower with me. Think Sam’s already gone to bed on the couch.”   
  
Cas came with him willingly, following him upstairs. Bobby never came up here anymore so this way, they’d have a little more privacy. He shut the door behind them quietly, already shrugging his outer shirt off and pulling his t-shirt over his head before he turned to face Cas. Cas mirrored him, shrugging his trenchcoat and suit jacket off, his eyes locking with Dean’s as he let them drop to the floor. It seemed like a long time, now, since that night he’d tried to take him to a whorehouse to lose his virginity. Dean had brought him back to that old run down house and ended up taking it from Cas himself on a shabby mattress in the back room, and somewhere between the first tentative brush of Cas’ hands across his chest and the way Cas had thrown his head back and keened with Dean moving slow inside him, he’d realized this had very little to do with charity and lust and a lot more to do with something in his chest that only seemed satisfied when Cas was close to him. He’d been losing his wide eyed innocence bit by bit ever since then, and though Dean had liked it at first, the look in Cas’ eyes now was tired and hollow, and he wished like hell there was a way he could make him innocent again. Even if it meant making it so Cas had never come into his life, never pulled him from hell. It would’ve been worth it.   
  
“Dean?” Cas stepped in against him, his chest bare now, and Dean could feel the heat radiating everywhere they didn’t quite touch. Dean nodded, leaned to press a kiss against his shoulder.   
  
“M’ here.”   
  
Cas’ arms came around him, slower and less crushing than they had been before. His hands smoothed down Dean’s back, and Dean could feel the difference in his touch. There were calluses forming now, proof that he was becoming more human every day. He nuzzled against Cas’ shoulder, sucked at a patch of skin near his neck until he felt Cas shudder in his arms. He pulled back once he knew he’d left a mark, let his breath ghost over the bruise. The first time he’d done that where Sam could see he’d been worried afterward, afraid of what his brother would think of all of  _this_. Sam had just quirked his eyebrows up, rolled his eyes and given Dean that “oh God you and your nymphomania” look that he’d been giving him since they were teenagers, and he’d been nearly overwhelmed with relief. Sam didn’t care, and in his mind, that had been the last hurdle.   
  
Dean turned his head and Cas tilted his head up to meet him, a low noise humming in his throat when Dean kissed him thoroughly, his tongue sliding deep inside when Cas opened immediately for him. Dean slid his hands down Cas’ sides, rubbing warm across his ribs before he pulled away, his hands moving to his own pants to unfasten them quickly and shove them down. Cas took care of his own, and Dean turned to the shower, twisting the knob and shoving it in to turn it on. The pipes were old in this house and it stuck, finally kicking in hard, water spraying against the opposite wall. Dean swore under his breath, reached up to push the shower head down just a little, shaking cold water off his fingers. Cas molded against him from behind, arms around his waist and lips trailing across the back of his neck. He settled into it for the moment, gave the water a chance to heat up and focused on the feel of Cas’ lips, the way his tongue flicked out every now and then, mapping the freckles Cas had once told him he already had memorized.   
  
When he could feel the heat from the other side of the curtain he pulled away wordlessly, his hand twisting back to take Castiel’s and pull him in the shower with him. The water was hot and the muscles in his back were still tense, and he grunted a little when the water pounded against him. He stepped back under the spray, rolled his shoulders and felt some of the tension ease. Nothing like a hot shower after a long day. Sometimes, the way they lived, it was the only comfort you got for a long, long time. Cas’ hands ran up his arms, coming up to knead his shoulders but he batted him away good naturedly, stepped forward and wrapped his fingers firm over Castiel’s hips.   
  
“M’fine. Let me look at you.” Really, he hadn’t gotten a good look since they’d parted ways that morning. He looked mostly unhurt, a little blood on his cheek and some dirt on his arms, courtesy of that midnight dig. And his hand…the cuts were still there, glass free but seeping blood, and Dean pulled it up to his lips, kissed his palm lightly before pulling back when he felt Cas tense. “You didn’t fix it.”   
  
“I didn’t want to.”   
  
Fair enough. He didn’t like it, but he was no stranger to wanting a little bit of pain sometimes himself. If it reminded of him of Ellen, if it helped him somehow…yeah, then it was better that he keep it for awhile. Maybe a few scars might even do him good. Or, maybe that was just another step toward five years down the road, and everything Dean had sworn he’d never see come to light. He shook his head, leaned in and caught Cas’ lips in a slow, wet kiss before he could ask why.   
  
When he was sure he had the angels full attention he took a breath, murmured against his lips. “Wings?”   
  
Cas hesitated, and that was enough to make him even more worried than he had been. He’d found out pretty quick that Cas loved having his wings touched, and he used that knowledge whenever he could. Cas loved it, so his reluctance now was telling, and they both knew it.   
  
“I…” He swallowed, shut his eyes and brought them up from his shoulders with hardly a thought. He sucked in a sharp breath when the water hit them, folding them in close to his back like an injured dove. They were dirty, clearly, black in places with ash and slick in others with oil, shiny burns visible here and there through the feathers. Castiel’s eyes darted away, refusing to meet Dean’s. “The fire, it effects our true selves, the form that our wings are part of, and-“  
  
“Fucking  _bastard_.” The growl slipped out through clenched teeth and he pulled Cas close, backing him up gently against the wall. He looked him over, a muscle in his jaw jerking when he saw a gap between feathers where he knew a flight feather had been just last night. “They hurt?” Cas barely tipped his chin down, and he lowered his head and kissed him, stopping his hesitant nod. “Don’t worry, Cas.” He kissed his way down his jaw, whispered against the hollow of his throat. “I’ll make it better. Promise.”   
  
He wrapped his left arm more securely around Cas’ waist to hold him trapped between Dean and the wall, reached over with his other to nudge the water down from hot to warm, more bearable on his burns. He started on the left wing, more directly in the water, and he used his hands. He tried a washcloth, at first, but it was too rough and heavy on the feathers and Cas jerked, a soft pained sound escaping his lips. He pressed a kiss to the soft feathers under the top ridge in apology, and after that, it was just his hands working gently on damp feathers.   
  
The ash came out easily enough if he rubbed carefully but the oil, that was more annoying. Still, with the soap and a lot of patience to not rub too hard, it came out. The burns were a whole other matter, one he knew he’d have to deal with properly once they were out and dry and he had access to a first aid kit. For the time being, it was enough that Castiel was starting to respond to his touch.   
  
He’d been mostly quiet while Dean worked, but now that his wings were getting a little more in order, he was able to concentrate more on the feel of Dean’s fingers through his feathers. Dean could see him biting his lip against it and he stroked the underside gently, dipping his head to mouth along the top curve of bone on his right wing. Cas moaned then, low and hungry, and when he pressed forward Dean could feel him hardening against his thigh.   
  
“Better?” The whisper barely reached over the sound of the water but Cas nodded, flexing his wings just a little and sighing when Dean repeated the caress. There was something so gorgeous about him like that, something beautiful and alien in the way he took such pleasure from Dean’s touch against his feathers, the way he’d moan and flap and press into the touch.   
  
Another stroke, and Cas thrust against his leg just a little, desperate for friction, his eyes closing as his head fell back against the tile. Lust sparked hot in his groin at the sight and Dean moaned a little, his lips working downward, a line of hot kisses across his chest. When he stepped back his leg slid from between Castiel’s leaving him nothing to grind against, and he whined softly before Dean dropped to his knees, his intensions clear.   
  
Castiel’s breath sped up at that, one hand curving to rest against the back of Dean’s head, his thumb brushing his temple. The grip of fingers on the back of his head hurt whatever wound it was he’d gotten back there, but Dean didn’t complain. He leaned forward instead, sucking at Cas’ hipbone and ignoring the way his erection twitched against his belly until Cas’ begged him, his soft ‘Dean,  _please_ ’ echoing in the small space.   
  
He nuzzled the inside of his thigh, breath warm on sensitive skin.   
  
“ _Dean_ , I-“  
  
“Shhh. I got ya.” He took him in his mouth then, reaching up to guide his cock just a little after it jerked hard enough to almost bob away from him. He sucked him down as best he could, his tongue working at the underside, swallowing as far down as he could go. Cas was moaning, and the sound pumped pure  _need_  into his veins faster than anything else ever could. He pulled his head back just a little, eased up on his grip on Cas’ hips and let him fuck his mouth as well as he could without losing his balance. His thrusts were short, jerky and uneven, but the hand that held Dean’s head in place was never anything but gentle, and he didn’t make him choke. Dean took a little more control for a second, pulled back to lave the slit with his tongue. The taste was salty and slick, and even when he slid back down farther he could still feel Cas leaking against the back of his tongue. He opened his mouth a little wider, let Cas thrust into him again. He was panting, now, and it was only a few more thrusts before he came, crying out quietly, his grip tightening against the back of Dean’s head.   
  
He swallowed easily, pulled off and stood up to pin Cas against the wall and kiss him, his heart jumping erratically at the way Cas felt against him, warm and boneless. He pulled back enough to turn him, careful of his wings as he pushed against him from behind. He palmed Castiel’s ass with one hand, his cock throbbing impatiently at the thought of being inside him. He wanted to feel the heat close around him, hear the way Cas would moan has name once he was inside but they were both tired and sore, this wasn’t exactly the best position, and he’d been hard since the minute they’d gotten in the shower. He definitely wouldn’t be able to last long. Still…  
  
He brushed his fingers over Cas’ lips, questioning. “Cas?” Cas leaned forward to take them, sucking hard, moaning around the mouthful. He swore, slid his other hand down the squeeze the base of his cock, did his best to block out the thought of that warm, hot mouth wrapped around him. He prepared him a little quicker than he usually did, but Cas was becoming accustomed to taking him by now and the the muscle felt loose and ready when he scissored his fingers against it. He spit in his hand, slicked his cock up as best he could before positioning himself and pushing in. The angle was a little awkward, and standing on slick tile he couldn’t thrust as deeply as he would’ve liked to.   
  
All the same, there was nothing like being inside Cas. He let his head drop against the curve of his wing, muttered against it how hot and good and fucking  _tight_  he was. Cas pressed back against him, squirming in pleasure and moaning Dean’s name. It was more than enough, and he came quickly like he’d known he would. He jerked his head up when he did, stomach jolting pleasurably when Cas was ready to meet him with a kiss, swallowing his moan.   
  
He pulled out carefully, cock twitching tiredly when Cas’ breath hitched at the loss. He leaned back against the cold tile, his skin heated enough that he didn’t mind. He pulled Cas to his chest, holding him close, and they kissed lazily until the water started to cool. Cas reached over to crank it up then, and Dean was pretty sure he put a little of his mojo into it, because last he’d checked Bobby’s hot water tank hadn’t been  _that_  big. Still, not that he minded.   
  
Cas took the chance to take a breath, forehead resting against the wall by Dean’s ear. He sighed when Dean stroked a hand down his spine, his wings drooping as his body eased a little more of his weight against Dean. “Dean?”   
  
“Hm?”   
  
“What…what are we going to do now?”   
  
He squeezed his eyes shut tight, let go of Cas with one hand and brought it up to rub at his temple. He’d been afraid of that. Ever since he’d left Heaven, Dean was Cas’ new authority. The plan up until this point had been to find the Colt and kill the Devil, and of course it was only natural that he be wondering what the next step would be now. Natural or not, Dean didn’t have an answer.   
  
Instead of really answering, he went with what he  _did_  know. “We don’t let Sam go to Detroit. We keep him the hell away from it, as far as we can.” The urge to  _not lose Sam_  bolstered him, and his voice strengthened just a little. “You don’t ever let me leave the Impala to rust outside of some damn cabin, and I don’t ever let you start popping pills.” He could feel Cas tense against him, wondering, but now that he was talking about it was like some kind of unspoken barrier had been broken, and he couldn’t stop there. “And I don’t ever send you on a mission I know you won’t make it out of, and we never end up in a world where Bobby dies alone and Sam says yes and me and you are fucked to hell, a thousand miles apart in the same damn room.” His voice wavered a little, and he dropped his chin onto Cas’ shoulder, took a deep breath and breathed in the scent of water and soap and feathers and  _Cas_. “We do what we can, but we never let  _those_  things happen. Cause even if we die tomorrow, I’m ok with that. Me, you, Sam, Bobby…we could go down like Ellen and Jo did today, and we’d be alright. Maybe he’d take over the world, but maybe that’s how it’s gotta go. But what we can’t ever do, is roll over and  _let_  him fuck us before he wins. There’s a difference.”   
  
Castiel pushed away enough to put a little space between them, leaned on one hand over him as his soft blue eyes tried to catch Dean’s. “Zachariah?”   
  
He laughed once, harsh. “You knew?”   
  
“I knew he’d shown you something that frightened you. What it was, I wasn’t sure.”   
  
“I didn’t want to talk about it. Still don’t, really, but…” He took a deep breath, looked down. “We can’t let that happen. And when Sam said he mentioned Detroit while I was down…dammit, Cas, I felt like I was drowning in it, you know? Like…like it’s gonna happen, no matter what I do to stop it.”   
  
He felt Cas’ hands on his cheeks then, warm and gentle, and he closed his eyes and let Cas pull his head down to kiss his forehead. “You already _have_  stopped it. You won’t let yourself become what you saw, and that makes all the difference.”   
  
“Yeah, well I hope you’re right.”   
  
“So do I.” Cas went quiet, hands sliding down, one arm going around Dean’s waist, the other hand slipping to intertwine their fingers. He laid his head against Dean’s shoulder again, their heartbeats evening. “Dean?”   
  
“Mm?”   
  
“If we…if we die…when  _I_  die…you’ll burn my body?”   
  
He clenched his jaw, squeezed Cas’ hand impossibly tight until he felt like he could answer without ripping his own heart out. “You’re a hunter, aren’t you?”   
  
“Yes.” When he said it, he sounded pleased.   
  
Dean cleared his throat, turned to kiss the top of his head. “Think that answers your question.” 


End file.
